


Cadence

by doublelead



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Childhood, High School, M/M, they start off with a granny bike, vehicle upgrades throughout the years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:23:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9601139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublelead/pseuds/doublelead
Summary: Prompto thinks Noctis’ new hairstyle is really cool. Stylishly messy and loose, artistically disheveled. The right balance between effortlessly handsome and barely caring enough to do more than slide a hand through his hair in the mornings. The kind Prompto wishes he could emulate without spending an hour or two in front of the bathroom mirror meticulously willing every single strand into shape. The kind that would still look good wind-mussed on the worst of days. Noctis doesn’t say anything, smiles coyly to projects an air of mystery, quietly preens under his adoring coos.“I like your hair too, Prompto,” he says, ruffling the back of his friend’s head. “Don’t worry about it too much.”The fact that it’s just permanent helmet hair because Gladiolus now has a motorbike is Noctis’ best kept secret.Or, Noctis has thoughts about the cityscape while riding on the back of a bike





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ad_Astra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ad_Astra/gifts).



> this was written as a birthday gift for [Ad_Astra](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ad_Astra/pseuds/Ad_Astra) who wanted pre-fall Insomnia and something with Noctis' car. Bikes are a type of vehicle, thus are still in a way loosely comparable to automobiles.

It’s training, he’s been told. Albeit for whom might have slipped his mind. Noctis can’t really tell either, not when he’s sitting primly behind a bike, trying to see the sights in front of him from behind the wall that is Gladiolus’ back.

At the very least, he can see a narrow strip of the sky, orange dusted clouds hanging low between tall buildings.

“I thought having someone ride on the back of your bike is illegal,” Noctis says. He holds tighter, his arms around Gladiolus, as he starts to feel the pull of gravity at his back, the usual uphill climb towards city centre.

“Special circumstances,” Gladiolus chokes between pants, breath lost to the colossal effort he exerts to pedal. It’s a sharp incline – Noctis can’t blame him.

“So nobles are above the law?” It doesn’t stop him from trying to engage in conversation, though. He swings his legs, watching the way dark shadows from the wheel spoke cut through the ones cast by his shoes.

“I could just drop you.” Noctis could barely even hear him this time, Gladiolus’ voice closer to thin wheeze.

“No, you need to get me home.” He digs his sole to the ground, feels the pavement scrape against the back of his heels. “And wasn’t this your idea?”

Noctis stays quiet for the rest of the ride home, when Gladiolus’ answer comes in the form of a grunt and a threatening swivel of his bike.

——

The trip to school in the morning is a lot less fun – there are less chances to make fun of Gladiolus, for one – but Noctis can appreciate the simplicity in letting their legs stretch forward and let the earth and applicable laws of physics do the work. They breeze past people and the occasional pets, reaching the bottom of the hill in a fraction of the time it usually takes for them to reach the top. He even lets Gladiolus pretend to be cool and brake drift right in front of his school gate. He doesn’t know what Gladiolus stands to achieve, showing off his rad biking skills to a bunch of middle school students, so he shrugs. Jumping off the back of the bike, he lands gingerly on his toes.

“Hey, Noct,” Gladiolus calls, after two steps.

Noctis stops to look back over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Don’t get into too much trouble.” His fingers fiddles with the knot of his tie – blue with thin white stripes, part of the uniform for their school’s high school division.

Noctis looks down to his own black stand-up collared uniform – barely a semester old, sleeves still brushing his knuckles.

“Are you saying I’m a delinquent?” he says, a brow raised in disbelief.

“I’m saying you’re a goddamn piece of work.” Gladiolus would’ve knocked on the crown of his head, ruffle his hair into a further mess, if they didn’t have the three feet distance between them.

“I’m appalled,” a lighthearted mockery of the speech pattern expected of him. “How _dare_ you insinuate such nonsense. I would _never._ ”

He gets a plastic candy wrapper to thrown to his face for his troubles, Gladiolus hiding a laugh against his forearm.

“I’ll see you later, then?” He has come to expect that now: a rickety granny bike waiting by the flowerbeds at sunset, rather than the afternoon light reflecting off a sleek limousine car.

“I’ll get you the curry buns from my school’s cafeteria,” Gladiolus says with a smile. “Now go get educated, kid.”

——

“For the both of you, I’d assume,” Ignis says to the open page of his book, silently urging Noctis to do the same and finish their required reading for the day. “Sir Clarus was the one who suggested it. Something about Shield-King bonding.”

Noctis, _of course_ , completely disregards him and continues to fold origami frogs to flick across the table. “We do plenty of bonding. The only other person I see more than Gladio is you.”

“Field work, I guess? Gladio has to practice protecting you out in the open.” It seems the prewar chapter of Lucian history isn’t going to get read anytime this weekend, Ignis concludes. He sighs, bids farewell to the ink-illustrated map of the Old Kingdom, and sets it aside. “Are you against it?”

“No,” Noctis says, letting an equation-scribbled paper frog fall off the side of the desk. “I actually like this better.”

Ignis smiles, small, crinkles on the edge of his eyes. “Good. He does, too.”

——

Noctis suggests bringing Iris in the front basket with them, once. ‘ _Extra weight training_ ,’ he said, because surely Clarus had meant for that to be a part of their little arrangement as well. Building Gladiolus’ stamina and leg strength – maybe even develop complex bike maneuvers to skillfully skid Noctis out of harm’s way. Like the Royal Family doesn’t have an armed car or two to ferry Noctis around town during more security sensitive situations.

He was turned down, of course. Not even Iris’ bright, sparkling, excited eyes could shatter Gladiolus’ resolve. He isn’t surprised. Disappointed, because there are times when Gladiolus is more susceptible to his dumb ideas than the unconquerable monolith that is Ignis, but not really surprised.

What he didn’t expect though, was for their little discussion to end with Gladiolus, Iris’ hand in his, inviting him to get cakes and pastries from the bakery at the main road a few blocks away from the Amicitia House.

——

Prompto thinks Noctis’ new hairstyle is really cool. Stylishly messy and loose, artistically disheveled. The right balance between effortlessly handsome and barely caring enough to do more than slide a hand through his hair in the mornings. The kind Prompto wishes he could emulate without spending an hour or two in front of the bathroom mirror meticulously willing every single strand into shape. The kind that would still look good wind-mussed on the worst of days. Noctis doesn’t say anything, smiles coyly to projects an air of mystery, quietly preens under his adoring coos.

“I like your hair too, Prompto,” he says, ruffling the back of his friend’s head. “Don’t worry about it too much.”

The fact that it’s just permanent helmet hair because Gladiolus now has a motorbike is Noctis’ best kept secret.

——

His latest idea is to get a sidecar for Gladiolus’ bike – for Prompto to ride around in with them like a puppy sidekick in those old cartoons.

The biggest surprise was the thirty-second genuinely thoughtful pause Gladiolus takes before rejecting.

‘ _One day.’_ Noctis sighs wistfully. ‘ _One day.’_

——

He barely remembers the slow-moving days of struggling going up hill, Gladiolus standing to pedal his bike and pushing forward as much as he can. Sweat dripping down the back of his neck, the scenery Noctis sees from over Gladiolus’ shoulder or from peeking from under his arms. The world was much faster, then. People going about their days around them, in their own separate rhythms, outside their little bubble.

The shadows under his feet are less defined, now – a blur of irregular shapes along the asphalt, too quick for him to catch each permutation. He still can’t see much, sitting on the back of the motorbike – thinks he could see even less now, walled off from the world in front of him by Gladiolus’ leather jacket.

He looks down to the space between them, counts the stripes of his blue-and-white striped uniform tie until the point it blurs out of focus.

——

“Oh, thank _fuck_ you didn’t steal the Regalia.” Noctis hears the screech Gladiolus valiantly suppresses in thoughtful consideration of the sleeping population of his neighborhood. Frankly, he’s kind of offended that his first questions aren’t ‘ _Why are you here?’_ followed by, ‘ _How did you get into my yard?’_

“You just got your license so I figured you’d do this sooner or later,” Gladiolus whispers while massaging his temples, hoping that when he drops his hand from his face, Noctis is all but an apparition courtesy of his sleep-fogged mind. “Also, what noble guard doesn’t know the Prince’s face? Jared probably even offered to make you some tea.”

“Why would I steal the Regalia? My sports car is easier to sneak out.”

“That’s not…” He hears the utter fatigue in Gladiolus’ voice, like he aged years due to this conversation alone. “Stay the fuck down there I’m putting on some pants,” he finally yells out of the window, shuffling back inside his room with a grumble.

Noctis could only snicker, when Gladiolus trudges into the walkway a few minutes later, covering a yawn with the back of his hand.

“So,” he says when he slides into the driver’s seat, a playful lilt in his voice. “You sleep naked?”

“So,” Gladiolus says, nothing short of calm and conversational, pulling the passenger seat door closed. “How many council meeting attendances did you promise Ignis?”

——

Gladiolus’ knees might as well be tucked under his chin, Noctis thinks with a passing glance to his side. The gymnastic-level limb folding they might have needed for Gladiolus to fit in his car had him worried, but this is good. Better than good. Absolutely grand. Goddamn fucking _hilarious._ Gladiolus looks absolutely _miserable_ and he isn’t in any power to do anything about it. He smirks, stifles a bubble of laughter as he turns at a light, takes them to the downhill road they used to pass through everyday.

He’s never gone through here this late before – when the skies are dark and no one is on the sidewalks. Streetlamps dot his peripheries, light picking off the edge of the dashboard and up their headrests.

“Don’t kill us while I nap, yeah?” Gladiolus murmurs into the glass, then shifting to tuck himself against the car door.

“Like you can sleep all squished up like that.” He can’t, definitely, and that’s the best part.

“I think I like it better when I take you to places instead.”

“Well, I think I like taking you around for once,” Noctis says, smiling fondly at the wheel. “Return the favour, you know.”

“I’m surprised you don’t have junk food wrappers littered in here for me to throw at you.” He’s trying his best impression of a rock with little success, readjusting his position every time something digs against his ribs.

“I’ve confiscated all weaponry you could use against me.” Noctis puffs out his chest in pride.

Gladiolus – ever the prepared soldier, always ready to face any situation that presented itself to him – fishes out a piece of convenience store receipt from his pockets, scrunching it into a tiny ball to bounce against the top of Noctis’ head.

“Just hurry and get us home,” he says behind a yawn.


End file.
